IRL
by broliloquy
Summary: John Egbert already moved on from his fling with his best friend, Dave Strider. Only he's falling back in love again, after all these years. -Your name is John Egbert and you're feeling a bit melancholy.- (spinoff of Log Off by davvecup on ao3)
1. Chapter 1

TG: i just can't do this online shit forever man

You deleted that conversation a long time ago.

TG: i love you so fucking much and

You believed him and loved him back.

TG: the other day i just felt so fucking trapped

That's why you let him go immediately.

GT: i'll never not love you, dave. you're everything to me and i would have done anything to save this. but i respect that you'll be a lot happier without me.

They were saved, all your online chats with Dave in the month you were dating, into an unnamed folder. You didn't really think any much of it besides the fact that maybe you'll bring it out and laugh at it one day, because the online chat history definitely had to go.

You didn't talk to Dave for a week or two after that, wanting to give him some space, and maybe the number of that hot guy (okay fine you're a bit bitter about that). Honestly, like the relationship, you'd expected your friendship with him to end soon, too. Not only with Dave, but also with Rose and Jade.

They didn't. The four of you talked to each other practically everyday and never stopped. Gradually as you all matured into adults the heartache passed and you were able to talk to Dave without feeling like a part of you melted down everytime he made you laugh and smile. You don't think the attraction ever passed, but at least you fell out of love. It was a relief, to finally talk to him like a best bro and nothing more, because that's all you'll ever be.

That was kind of before you met him and fell in love. All over again.

He's sitting in front of you in the reception table and chuckling next to his boyfriend.

Your name is John Egbert and you're feeling a bit melancholy.

CG: THAT SOUNDS TOUGH. I WANT TO ENCOURAGE YOU TO GO FOR YOUR MAN BUT IT'S NOT LIKE I WANT TO TEAR HIM AWAY FROM HIS CURRENT FLAME. SHIT'S NOT RIGHT.

EB: i know, thanks anyway, karkat! and i'm fiiiiiiiine! it's just a stupid old crush that came back, i think it's because i seriously liked him, you know? and they say that you never forget your first love, so i guess crushing on him again is a bit of a throwback.

CG: I GUESS THAT'S NORMAL.

EB: of course!

CG: BUT THIS SITUATION IS STILL SHITTY FOR YOU.

EB: yeah, i guess. but i don't really want to turn it into an issue, because it's not!

CG: YEAH AND YOU FEEL LIKE THIS ISSUE'S JUST GROWING BIGGER.

EB: ugh, you're right. and tomorrow we have boring and fancy soiree that jade's organized, too. i don't really feel like going there and seeing him cuddling with 'chuck'.

CG: THE FACT THAT YOU FEEL LIKE PUTTING THE NAME CHUCK IN QUOTATIONS SAYS FUCKING LOADS ABOUT YOUR ISSUE. WHY DON'T YOU HIDE BEHIND YOUR PANSY FEMALE FRIENDS FOR THE DAY TOMORROW.

EB: they love talking about dave and that guy! i'm always playing that smirking friend with rose and jade towards dave's current relationship. jade and rose are really cool and i love talking and spending time with them but not when every ten minutes one of them brings up something about that guy!

CG: AND THEY DIDN'T NOTICE YOUR DORKASS CRINGING?

EB: i don't cringe, karkat. besides, rose is bringing along this other girl. i think it's a different girl than last time.

CG: HOW COME THAT ROSE FRIEND OF YOURS IS DROWNING IN MORE GIRLS THAN ME, AND I'M POURING MY SOUL HERE TO GET AT LEAST ONE GIRL TO NOTICE ME AND I'M JUST FAILING?

EB: dude, no one can compare to rose. it'll just make you depressed, trust me. apparently she's the "right amount of elegant and silliness" that makes every vagina in the room melt or something.

CG: THAT IS THE MOST SEXIST THING I'VE HEARD YOU SAY. EVER.

EB: what the fuck?

CG: YOU'RE OBJECTIFYING WOMEN AS VAGINAS. IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED THAT SMALL MISDEMEANOR, BUT LIKE FUCK I'M GOING TO RAG ON THE INJUSTICES OF THAT STATMENT. I'M JUST SAYING THAT YOU SOUND MORE FRUSTATED THAN USUAL.

EB: you've been spending more time with your cousin kankri, haven't you?

CG: FUCK! HE'S BEEN RUBBING OFF ON ME! THE BASTARD!

EB: hehehe, that's alright! you sound pretty cool when you're talking about social justice. hey, i have an idea!

CG: WHATEVER IT IS, NO.

EB: come with me tomorrow! it's the day before jade goes off to explore the world and expand the skaianet company again.

CG: LOOK, I DON'T FEEL LIKE GOING ON A FANCY SOIREE OR WHATEVER WITH YOUR FRIENDS OKAY? THEY ALL MAKE ME FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE.

EB: karkat come on, they're the best people on the planet!

CG: RIGHT. IT'LL STILL BE UNCOMFORTABLE. LALONDE IS THE BIG WIG IN LITERATURE, HARLEY SINGLEHANDEDLY STARTED UP SKAIANET, AND STRIDER'S FILMS MAKE ME WANT TO BRAIN SOMEONE. AND THERE WILL BE OTHER BIGWIGS, I'M JUST A COLLEGE GUY PART TIMING IN PIZZA HUT.

EB: even if you put it like that, you're still fine with me!

CG: THAT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE A HUGE GOOFBALL WHO APPRECIATES THE SAME KIND OF PIZZA THAT I DO.

EB: i don't really like pizza.

CG: EXACTLY. AND YOU'RE JUST YOU, OKAY? YOU'RE ALWAYS SUPPORTING ME AND ENCOURAGING ME ALONG, EVEN THOUGH WE'RE LIKE DAY AND NIGHT. AND EVERYTHING YOU DO IT'S LIKE YOU'RE FUCKING DIDDLING AROUND LIKE A TOY WHEN YOU'RE NOT.

EB: aaww, karkat

CG: DON'T AWWW KARKAT ME.

EB: but that's so sweet! and don't just count yourself down as the part timer as pizza hut, dude. you're, like, continuing my dream as a biologist before i decided to work with jade at skaianet. but come on, i'm asking you pleeeeaaaase!

CG: FINE.

EB: :D

CG: OH SHUT UP WITH THAT!

EB: :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

CG: ASDFASDFASSA

EB: :B

Chuck had an easy way of making Dave chuckle that you're incredibly jealous of. You don't even know why, because you know you can make Dave laugh even harder, but talking to him became more and more painful, until everytime you two speak you could feel yourself forcing a smile that's breaking your jaws. You try to talk a lot, in order to make it less visible your traitorous feelings, and you make sure to laugh a lot. Sometimes when it seemed like you can't take it anymore you flopped onto Jade and let her pet your hair until you felt normal again.

On the day of the party you arrived at Karkat's dingy house in your suit and his in tow (a college guy forced to work at Pizza Hut's doesn't have the kind of cash for suits, but luckily you are pretty loaded and decided to just buy a suit Karkat's size and loan it to him once in a while). Knocking on the comically decrepit door produced a surly faced and crying Karkat, all packed up with food and water. You didn't ask about the open 50 First Dates disk packet you saw right next to a television.

You open up your arms and let him dry his tears on your jacket.

Your name is Dave Strider and you should be having the time of your life. You've finally met the three of the most important people of your life, and even found out that John and Rose are staying in L.A. to work. That means that you can hang out with them. Yeah! And the four of you were having a lot of fun. Loads. You've brought Chuck, your boyfriend, over to several events before Jade goes off, and he had integrated pretty well into the group. It was much better talking to them in person instead of just online, everything seemed more real. When the four of you first met up at a Hollywood fundraiser, you couldn't believe your eyes although the four of you had known already that this was happening.

You gave John the long overdue tender bro embrace and he returned it, lifting you up and then going on to lift Rose up too.

"My favorite people in the world!" He had exclaimed back then.

Despite how comfortable the atmosphere you usually found the four of you to be in, at moments John would look strained or seem to be trying too hard to be happy. You didn't press him about this, but since Jade's leaving the next day after the party, John won't have his customary cuddle buddy anymore so you decided to corner him in the soiree about this. Chuck won't be there because he's an actor and had a schedule conflict, so he just gave you a kiss and told you to have fun.

Fun was what you were planning on having while you stand next to an ironic punch bowl Jade had been persuaded into placing. She voted down your suggestions for even more ironic highschool prom streamers and decided that the over decorated punch bowl was the only tacky piece of hot irony that's allowed.

That's when you met Karkat Vantas. Well, saw him anyway. Technically you heard him first.

"Look, I'm fucking sorry for spilling my drink on your pretentious dress, but you could be less of a fucking menopausal jackal's ass about this!"

"What- how dare you-you uncultured and barbaric-"

You turn in the direction of the turmoil just in time to see John easily wrapping an arm around a short and furious kid's waist.

"Sorry about my date, Mrs. Fischer! He's a bit of a klutz, you can send the dry cleaning bill to me later, and we can find another gown for you right away!"

You've never believed in hate at first sight until the image of Karkat firmly pressed against John's side came into the world.

You swallow and take a sip of punch.


	2. Chapter 2

Your name is John Egbert, and taking Karkat Vantas to Jade's soiree is the best decision you've ever made. That is because Dave is standing by the punch bowl looking devilishly handsome and you don't think your heart can take it anymore. Feelings, man. They suck.

Speaking of Karkat, he seems to be enjoying the party. He stands next to you, trying to delicately munch on a bunch of hors d'oeuvre (meaty things that makes you wonder if Jade, in a fit of not unprecedented irony, managed to incorporate horse flesh into the food). Karkat avoids eye contact with practically everyone but you, and you can tell that he is still a bit nervous about the party. You don't talk to anyone else but him and occasionally the girls, too, and you try to get him to relax and fully enjoy himself, because Jade spent effort into making the soiree into an "extreeeemely classy affair!" You like the touch of animal banners strew across the ceilings and walls. Very elegant.

"This isn't so bad now, is it?" You ask, playfully poking him.

"...I guess not." He grins a bit and nudges at you. You think that Karkat has gotten a lot more mellow over the years since you met him. "Fuuuuck, who made these? They are like fucking sex on my tongue."

"I don't know, some fancy and elegant Russian chef, probably." You reach a finger into his plate, and was promptly slapped out.

"Get your own food, fucknut."

"Oh no you didn't. You did not just refuse me a morsel of horse meat."

"What?" is all that manages to come out of his mouth before you smartly snatch his plate away from his hands, cramming a handful of those little things inside your mouth.

"John for crissake act your fucking age!" You laugh at his attempt to whisper shout and as an act of reconciliation, hand him a flute of champagne, snatched from a passing waiter.

"You must be thirsty, come on, drink up!"

He takes the flute and gingerly sniffs it. "It's alcohol."

"So?"

"I'm only twenty, idiot. Stop being an awful adult and handing the underaged alcohol, John."

"Oh, man, I forgot how much of a baby you were!" You stifle a giggle at his expression and hold out a hand to take the drink away. You're a responsible adult and, despite what Karkat may think, don't make a habit of handing alcohol to minors. "Oh, come on, it's just that I forget how young you really are, man. Give it here and I'll bring you a box of orange juice, okay?":

Honestly you should have been expecting this. You swear that you could see a throbbing vein next to Karkat's eye.

"OH FUCK YOU!" He flung his arms out, and glared at you, "Fuck you and your orange juice-"

You stop him by slapping your hand across his mouth. "Dude. Don't wave your hands around when you have something in them, okay?"

"Very good advice. I'm _afraid_ that it's too late." A voice that you really don't like cut its way into your conversation.

The both of you slowly turn your eyes toward an extremely angry madame with the most pretentious piece of minx and silk dress. Her gown is splattered with champagne. Coincidentally, her name is Victoria Anne Fischer and the head of a huge publishing firm. Also coincidentally, she publishes Rose's novels. Wow, so many coincidences.

You should probably do some damage control.

"Oh, sorry," Karkat mumbled, "I didn't mean to do that, shit, do I need to pay for your dress? I think it stained-"

Not a good idea.

"Excuse me? Who are you to think that you can just waltz in and pour a jug of-of champagne down my chest?"

"What, no, I'm really fucking sorry about that okay-"

"Oh don't you get your delinquent tongue wagging on me young man! This is a place of decorum in case you haven't noticed, not the place for you to spout nonsense words!"

"Oh shit, I mean, sorry. Fuck. I mean no." He takes a deep breath, trying not to shout. "Look lady I'm sorry about your dress-"

"Oh whatever." She sniffs disdainfully at his coarse mannerisms. You really don't like where this is going. Karkat's vein is throbbing again. Maybe you can take him to some anger management lessons or something. "I'll take the apology. Seeing as this is Ms. Harley's auspicious event I'm going to let you go on this one, young people these days-"

"Look, I'm fucking sorry for spilling my drink on your pretentious dress, but you could be less of a fucking menopausal jackal's ass about this!"

You mentally sigh and laugh at the same time. This guy is hilarious, man! Shit like this is why Karkat Vantas is one of your best bros.

"What- how dare you-you uncultured and barbaric-"

You cut her off by wrapping an arm around Karkat's waist and pulling him into you intimately. You don't risk your hand by placing it anywhere near his buttcheeks (besides, ew Karkat ass).

"Sorry about my _date_, Mrs. Fischer!" You make sure to emphasize the word date, "He's a bit of a klutz, you can send the dry cleaning bill to me later, and we can find another gown for you right away!"

Your arms remains wrapped around his waist when Fischer slowly backs away from your tense smile.

"I can't believe you. What, not even wining and dining me and you think you can take your pugnacious hand and wrap it around my waist like I'm a goddamn trophy wife?"

You laugh again. "Oh man. Hey why don't you be my trophy wife tonight? I think there are rumours going around that," you drop your voice and whisper, "that I'm gay. We can totally dispell that!"

"John no. Just no. If I haven't cringed when I found your godawful het porn collection I'd think you're fucking serious."

Your cheeks fail to resist blushing. "Oh wow, I should probably find a better place to put them huh?"

"Probably." He doesn't remove your arm, though, and even leans a little against you. It's weird, and you totally wish that it was someone else in your arm. "Are you trying to make him jealous?"

"Haha who?" You're a liar, the liar is you.

"You know who." He follows your vision to your other best bro, a clear cut figure against the otherwise high school promlike table. "I don't want to see you looking so sad."

He's still calming down from his outburst but you could hear the softness in his voice. His light lime colored eyes focus on you with concern.

"I'm not sad."

"Yeah right."

You see Dave starting to make his way towards the two of you. He moves in his cattish ways, slinking from one part of the reception hall to the other. The light catches the bridge of his shades and his thin cheekbones, and you can't help but stare the the striking image he makes.

"I can be your fucking trophy wife for the night. Just so you don't feel like that one guy who's pathetically stag."

His voice is helping you breathe in and out as Dave gets closer. You shoot a painful grin at the stylish blond and Karkat rests a hand on your back, gently massaging circles into very tense muscles.

"Stuff happens in life John. Shit happens and you deal with them, and you got me behind you to help you clean up all the emotional trainwrecks that happen."

You do feel kind of pathetic, because the issue here is only a small one. The love of your life just doesn't reciprocate. That's all. That's not a large thing. You can have other loves of life. You shouldn't blow this out of proportion. Your heart shouldn't twinge everytime Dave smiles. You shouldn't look at his lips and wonder how they'd feel under yours. Shit happens in life but your shit shouldn't be big enough to shadow your life this way.

"Sup." His voice is breathy and deep, all the precise combinations of classy and casual.

"Hi Dave! You're looking fiiiiiiiine tonight!" You let go of Karkat temporarily to fistbump him. His knuckles knock against yours gently.

"So you're not going to introduce me to the grumpy dwarf you have in your arms?"

"Oh!" You smile nervously, "Yeah Karkat's pretty short, aren't you?" You turn to him, only to see a sullen glare on your "date's" face.

"Fuck off, I'm not short. I'm just fucking fun sized."

"That's what they all say, shorty. Size doesn't matter, they say. You can be an inch high, but it's what you do with that inch that counts, they say. Too bad the all the inch is doing is being limp and angry."

"Hehe, I think the two of you are going to be amazing friends!" You laugh. "Anyway, this is Dave Strider, resident cool dork and my best friend from childhood!"

"You forgot to add movie maker extraordinaire and genius."

"Dave, your movies suck." You roll an eye and go back to introducing them. "This is Karkat Vantas, we met in a coffee shop when he spilled a cup of frappe all over me! He's like my best real life movie buddy, and my date for tonight."

"Damn, Egbert. You got some eyes, look at that piece of specimen." You sense some animosity behind his words, but you can't figure out why. You simply shake a finger at Dave and put an arm back around Karkat.

"Dude, stop macking on my date."

"He's not fucking macking on me. The sleezy asshole is mocking me."

"What no. I'm not on mocking mode right now babe, and the Stride is already taken to be mackin' on a minor. Seriously, John? Cradlerobbing?" Dave shakes his head and you punch his shoulders.

"He's just my date for the night, Dave. I'm not cradlerobbing anyone!"

"Uh huh." He glances at Karkat and something must be off because Dave looks surprised. You turn to your "date" and see that Karkat was struggling to balance out his obvious dislike for Dave and his inner loquaciousness that needs to be compensated by stating in loud and clear tones exactly why he fucking hates Dave Strider and his douche glasses. Or something like that. You hope Karkat doesn't diss the shades. They costed a pretty penny.

"Woah. Dude we should get you some fresh air." You make a gesture to the balcondy. "Sorry Dave, but I have to give Karkat some organic oxygen so he can spout all the bullshit trapped in his system."

"Fucking excuse me?!"

You giggle because your friend is the funniest friend in the world when he talks and lead him away from your heartbreak.

You don't see the way Dave crumples the tacky paper cup in his hand.

You should honestly feel relieved that you don't have to look at Dave anymore, but you want to. Honestly, that's a big problem.

Your name is Dave Strider and you have a problem. Two problems. Maybe three.

You're pretty sure that your boyfriend is going to ask the big M soon. Maybe this weekend. You've seen the hints of a box and a receipt from a needlessly expensive jewelry store. You say needlessly expensive, but if you were in his place you know you probably would have bought the most expensive and classiest ring for ironic purposes. Or proposed with a ring pop. Yeah, John would look ridiculous with a- nope nope nope not John never John what are you even thinking about. You don't sigh and facepalm, but you do toss the crumpled paper cup into a trashcan angrily. Back to the topic. You don't know how to feel about this. You actually kind of romantically liked Chuck as a guy, and he's a cool friend, but marriage? The idea gives you shivers. Chuck's the kind of guy who dreams of the stable celebrity power couple life, complete with a marriage certificate, matching rings, homemade pancake and bacon in the morning and an entire new lifestyle. You don't think you're ready to be tied down yet.

Which leads you to your next problem, because the entire "you're not ready to be tied down thing" got you into this mess years ago. Years ago as in, when you were fifteen and decided to have an internet fling with John, then breaking it off in a few months because you didn't want to be tied down to a person half way across the country. You were the dick. It was you. You childishly cut off relations with him for a long time, then went grovelling back at his foot because you were the douche and not only crumpled up his feelings, but also drowned them in oil and set fire to them. You're usually not predisposed to remembering the fuckups you created more than a decade ago, but now that John's in front of you and now that that's a fact that isn't changing soon, you're kicking fifteen year old you in the ass, because god damn. If only you waited thirteen more years. You snort. Yeah, like that's ever going to happen in any timeline.

You guess that you and John just weren't meant to be. You've got your own string of loving boyfriend and exes, and he's got...

Well, the third problem.

Karkat Vantas.

The two stand in the balcony, and you see how Vantas' eyes are trained onto John's face. His waist is still in John's arm, and the two of them look like a picture perfect pair of lovers.

Just. Fuck that guy.


	3. Chapter 3

Your name is Dave Strider, and John Egbert is supposed to be your best friend. You're still at Jade's soiree, and you're feeling very sorry for yourself. You also feel a healthy dose of self loathing, but it's surpassed by the agonizing self pity and an outrageous and righteous fury at Karkat Vantas.

You're sure he's a cool guy. He seems funny, and apparently he liked almost the same shitty movies that John liked. You just. You just don't like to see him with his hands all over John's back, whispering sweet nothings in John's ear, and gazing at John with adoration. It's unacceptable is what it is. John Egbert is your best friend, and even you haven't been able to do all that with him!

Granted, Karkat Vantas is his date.

Fuck.

You can't do this. Not when you remember the pain and loss all those years ago. You were a douche then, and if you had John Egbert in your grasp now, you would fuck him up again like you did to all your other relationships, like you did with him the first time around. This time it'd be worse, you'd have to physically see him crumple and you can't. You absolutely can't.

This is bad. You switch your attention from John and his young boyfriend and scan the room in search for Rose. Ah, there she is, sucking face with a mysterious ginger. That's the third person you've seen her with this week. Why is your sister's game so strong when you can't even make your childhood best friend look at you like that?  
You did not just think that. That's something that didn't happen and it's going to stay that way.

You resolutely take a breath and snap your head back, take a cursory glance over to John and Karkat Vantas standing on the balcony, the stride stiffly around the grand room trying to socialize your way out of your emotions.

XXXX

You return home to a bouquet of flowers and a tiny black box.

Needless to say, you slept alone that night.

XXXX

Jade's gone off gallivanting around the world again, leaving John in charge of Skaianet headquarters. Rose is locked in her study with dozens and dozens of drafts for her new book. You, well. You're lounging about at the moment, slinging your feet on your shitty living room table, drinking beer and watching reruns of The Simpsons. Your living room is a mess. Dirty clothes all over the place, dishes remain unwashed and piled not only in the sink but in four corners of just about every room. You stack leftover pizza boxes artistically around your sofa and build a can town with the cheap break up beer you keep in stock for times like this.

Ah, the single life.

You can go out to a club right now and fuck anyone you want. They'd take you, oh yes they will, the great Dave Strider? People are queing for a grasp at your meat stick. Or you can do what you're doing right now, being a slob and not having your boyfriend- ex now- chide you around for watching shitty reruns and putting your feet on the table.  
You like making the art of being slobbish an, well to be redundant, an artform. Usually you can't stand it. You can't stand the patches of dirt in places, the uneven placing of clothes, you even have stack your dishes in a particular way. You let loose by dirtying this place up and then cleaning it vigorously. Judging by the mess your suite is in, you really really need to let loose.

You liked him, you can even say loved him. Sort of. In a boyfrienish way. Adored him, certainly. He made you laugh, said interesting things, and was nice in bed. Your ex is pretty amazing, and you acknowledge that like you acknowledge the fact that all your exes were pretty amazing; they were all nice kind people who did nice kind things and made you laugh and call them a dork. It would be false and insulting to make a face heel turn right after a break up to say you've never liked this person seriously because you did.

You're always, always, pursuing them, talking to them, behaving around your lovers with an intensity and earnestness that you made sure to show. You want to tell them without really telling them, "hey i'm serious about you. i'm really really serious." You were afraid that if you didn't show that honesty, if you didn't show them the want and the pure force of your feelings, that anyone would just walk away, or feel unappreciated, or get hurt. Like John had.

Except now you're single again and there's no one in your life you want to chase after(shut up brain shut up shut up) and you're content to just let the feelings for this newest ex of yours slip away in the night. You try not to question the fact that if these feelings were really this easy to go away, were they real in the first place? That's silly, of course they were. You muse to yourself. Of course they were, but relationships end and Strider ain't gonna let anything bog him down. Gotta let the feelings free.

You end your internal monologue on these semantics and instead focus on watching Homer beat the shit out of his own son. Brings back happy memories.

XXXXX

Your name is John Egbert, and you are calming down. Karkat is rambling around some tangent that he managed to tangle himself up in again, and you flick him on the forehead to make him calm down.

"I'm alright now."

"Good."

You're both silent after this, and you take your arm off his waist because it was getting weird, and having your arm around a distinctively male figure just reminds you of Dave. Karkat doesn't mention Dave after meeting him, but you're sure that's out of consideration for your well being, because you haven't felt so raw and opened for such a long time. He ends up eating most of the small appetizers and refuses your invititation to a classier dining experience with Rose and Jade, Dave having already left a while back. He's tense and staring at Jade, who's shining with animation and cheerfullness, in a strange way and you guiltily feel protective over your big sister while at the same time you want to tell Karkat to go for it. One day. Maybe.

Dave doesn't show up in your radar for the next few days, he doesn't even message you to share inappropriate jokes or happenings at his workplace, but you are too busy working to worry about him for a while. You welcome the change, immersing yourself in conferences, numbers, inventions and all sorts of legalese. You don't think about Dave. You don't.

But one day Rose shows up with a bottle of wine and windex and tells you to go over to Dave's place. You take the two bottles in bewilderment, juggling them in your hands (you are a professional juggler, almost). You place them in a bag and put them in the passenger seat of your baby car Casey and drive on over the Dave's.

Knock.

No movement.

Knock knock.

Nothing.

You tuck the bag under your left arm and you plunge your right hand directly into the flowerpot, mucking around until your fingers grasp the key. You pull it out and shake the dirt, wiping it on your shirt, then fitting the key in the lock and turning the knob.

Dave's place is a mess.

You groan.

"Fuck this, Rose," you mumble to yourself, "I'm not Dave's fucking babysitter."

You call for Dave again, but either he's deep asleep or he's not here. You highly doubt that Rose would send you to an empty bachelor pad, but what do you know about Rose? (Quite a lot, but you pretend you don't to keep her happy) Sigh. The bag of wine and windex gets placed on the living room table after a couple of Chinese take out cartons are shoved off. The wine remains in the bag, but the windex comes out and you roll up your sleeves. Time to get this place shining.

You work your way steadily through the living room, throwing out cartons and organizing papers. You clean up a spill of milk that's pretty recent and had began to sour already, and you rearrange Dave's CD collection as retribution. Washing the dishes takes around an hour, you don't even bother drying them, you just put them straight into the dishwasher to hang. As you swipe the last follicle of dust from the TV screen, you notice a lumpy figure that had been lying in a niche between the sofa and the wall the entire time. The figure had blonde hair, shades, and was presumably still dead asleep.

Dave didn't have any blankets on his person, and he's curled up in a tiny ball with his hands pressed underneath his face, he's even drooling a bit, and his hair is all wonky. He looks so. Dave. Your heart calls out to him, but you don't do anything except to perform some complicated footwork to get behind the sofa and lift him out of his sleeping corner. He's still asleep, and you wonder when he went to bed (well, floor in this case) last night.

He's a soft and warm weight against your body. You want nothing more than to bend your face down a couple more inches just to brush your lips softly against his cheeks. That's all you want. Just a small kiss. He shifts in your arm, and you dispell any such thoughts. You carry him to his room, which may be the only clean room in the place- even by Dave's obsessive standards. You softly place him in his bed and drag the covers over him, and gently take away his shades, putting them on the nightstand.

Then, because you can't help yourself, you drop a kiss on his forehead, lightly.

It's dark outside already, and you don't feel like driving. You stretch and yawn, walking back to the living room and onto the sofa. A minute later, you're asleep and dreaming.


	4. Chapter 4

TG: i just can't do this online shit forever man

You deleted that conversation a long time ago.

TG: i love you so fucking much and

You believed him and loved him back.

TG: the other day i just felt so fucking trapped

TG: I went to the store and i saw a hot dude and i couldnt even give him my number

TG: because im with you and

TG: im sorry

That's why you let him go immediately.

GT: i'll never not love you, dave. you're everything to me and i would have done anything to save this. but i respect that you'll be a lot happier without me.

You'd stopped loving him sometime around March the next year. Teenagers were fickle, and you didn't feel any guilt for finally letting go of your burdensome feelings, especially when Dave obviously didn't return them. When you tried to pester him later and found that you'd been blocked by the person who you believed to love you "so fucking much" you had a pang of realization. You were a frantic wreck, pestering the hell out of Rose and Jade, agitating about what you did wrong, what you said wrong, why did Dave do this, why? The truth hit you harder than a ball to your face.

He never really loved you.

It was a teenager thing. You guys were fickle. You understood that. You understood that you can't expect too much of a fellow 15 year old who you've never met in person and who obviously need the presence of someone right next to them and who was so drowned in his own misery he never bothered thinking about you. You understood that and you forgave him.

That never meant it didn't hurt.

Or that you didn't grow a steady feeling of resentment over the month Dave had stopped talking to you. Who did he think he was? He could just throw you away like a tissue? He wanted that hot guy at the supermarket that much? He'd rather pursue some stranger then talk to his own best friend? At times you'd stare at the greyed out icon of his with complete fury, barely managing to control your anger. You were his friend before anything. It didn't matter if Dave had wanted to end the relationship but casting you away and disregarding your existence is too much for you.

You missed him. You hated him and you missed him so fucking much that when he came crawling back a month later you took him almost without a second word. Even now you cringe at the lack of backbone that 15 year old you had shown.

But the cold wave of that single phrase washed over your brain for months. He never loved you. Oh, Dave might have thought he did, heavens know he'd rambled on and on and sent you sweet raps and mixes enough to give the perfunctory viewer the image of a lovestruck puppy. But a person doesn't deliberately hurt the one they love. They don't stick a metaphorical knife in your gut, twist it and destroy it with salt water. The most you can say for Dave was that he'd had some romantic inclinations toward you.

But he didn't love you.

You had lingered by his side, tracing a finger through his silky hair before leaving and subsquently crashing on his couch.

He didn't love you then, and he wouldn't love you now.

In your sleep, the vestiges of that conversation replays itself in your dreams until you force yourself awake. The smell of bacon sizzling in the kitchen helped, and you tiredly curl your legs up and press yourself into the sofa. You find that a blanket had been placed over your body.

"That's fatty bacon, right?" Your voice is hoarse, shit, you might've caught a cold.

"Only the most obese, heart disease ladened strips of meat from a pig for the majesty," a voice replies from the kitchen.

"Don't burn them, I want chewy strips of obese pig."

"Done and done. Now get your back ass off the sofa and bathroomize your front ass. That's your face, by the way."

"I think I need to bathroomize my backass too."

"Shit, son, you should've told me. Let me just get my gold inlaid toilet seat set up for you and put in a roll of silk woven toilet paper." He chuckles, and wow, now you're smelling pancakes.

You force yourself off your warm sleeping cocoon, and drag your body to the bathroom. It was spotless. Dave must have done more cleaning after he woke up; he'd also placed your cup and toothbrush out, and folded a blue face cloth next to them. Your shirt is pulled off your torso, and you had grabbed a pair of Dave's spare shorts and shirt. You give yourself a quick wipe down and pull on the fresh clothes. Then you gargle your mouth with water and begin the daily battle against plaque. Today's fight was shorter and more furious than usual, because you could imagine the smell of breakfast curling around yourself, trying to drag you back to the kitchen.

Dave is wearing an unironic green apron with his shades tucked underneath it, and he's scraping the last bit of eggs onto two plates already filled with pancakes and bacon. His eyes meet yours as you walk in, and you hope he doesn't notice the fact that you didn't bother to comb you hair. You, however, notice that Dave's face looked smoother from so much sleep, and that he finally lost the bags underneath his eyes that had been there for months. And his eyes. Well. You tear yourself away from his eyes and slump on the chair. Dave has the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen on anyone

"Dave. Feed me."

"Calm your red hot racing tits, man. You can't rush perfection, I have to da Vinci this shit, call upon the perfections of nature and men, draw a couple of penises with syrup, maybe even snaggin out the whipcream. My obsequious nature is calling out to me yo, can't let the J-man have anything less than the best, gotta pimp this motherfucking breakfast up like a painted Jezebel under the desk of a company executive."

You notice that today it takes Dave less than a sentence to lose control of his metaphors. You doubt Dave is completely aware of what he's rambling on about now, and while that's not a strange occurence it's strangely...unusual today. So you give a dramatic yawn and interrupt him. "Dave, if the prostitute is under the desk, she doesn't need to be all made up, doesn't she? I'll eat whatever you make, however you make it. Promise. Even if the breakfast looks like the ugliest whore ever."

He stops talking turns his head toward you, his mouth opening closing slightly as if gaping for words. That's strange, Dave doesn't usually do this. His pale eyelashes frame two shining eyes; the pair of them are shaped in a way that no matter what kind of expression Dave actually wants to make, they force his face to assume the facade of an innocent child.

"I-nothing." He snaps his eyes down to the plates, bringing them to the table. "Hope you like the whorecakes I made."

You sniff at them delicately and give him a huge smile. It's best to talk about what's going on with Dave during breakfast then before. "I love your whorecakes, you make the best whorecakes."

Technically, Dave doesn't make the best pancakes in your life. The best is your Dad's, but it is totally unfair to compare your best friend's a little above average cooking skills to your Dad's crazy iron chef madness (only when he had managed to scrape together enough money to make a sumptious dinner, though things are much better now). But there's a strange smirk that looks like a shy smile on Dave's face, and when he notices that you're stupidly grinning at him he snatches his shades and put them on for some protection.

You roll your eyes and start to dig in. Dave acts as if you two hadn't been bffs for, what, 20 years? 21 years? Like, as if you've never cammed? Geez, it's almost as if he expects you not to be able to read face with his shades on! You like to call that ability on of the Beta Kid Specials, although the four of you are no longer kids and you have no idea why you chose the word beta.

"So." You begin after swallowing your third bite of pancake. "Should I call Rose or do you prefer that I'm the one who's trying to pick apart your brain today?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Is it quantum mechanics? Sounds tough, guess you have to brave this one out yourself, man."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help. You're supposed to be able to talk to me about anything."

"Yeah, that's not really happening."

"Oh." You didn't like the way the phrase makes you feel.

"No! I mean, we're still best friends and I swear I'll still sit through the worst movie marathon for you, shit, let's do that today, sift through some of your favorite movies and get some awful Cage action going on. There's icecream in the freezer, we can cry our eyes out watching the gross sweat sliding off of Nick Cage and eating Rocky Road."

Things are starting to make more sense, but you stare at Dave with what you know looked like apprehension in your eyes. It's not. It's the opposite of apprehension. It's happy anticipation. You're a horrible person, you're the most terrible person ever.

"Dave, did you break up?"

"No, yes, I mean no. Well technically. Yeah. Stuff happened and we didn't agree, and I guess. Well, the thing is that most importantly-"

You shut him up by slapping a hand over his lips. They tickle you.

"I get it. Let's cry over movies and ice cream."

He nods, his mouth still sealed by your hand.


	5. Chapter 5

You and Dave do not, technically, sob over sappy chick flicks. It's a technicality because you don't begrudge your best bro a tear or two near the end of the Romeo and Juliet. Gosh, you think you're getting a little teary eyed too.

You drape the blanket across the two of you and two adult grown ass men settle in next to each other. Dave puts his shades back on because the lights are off and it makes the screen's light even more glaring. You hunker into the warm couch and try not to get too attached to the warmth emanating from the body next to you.

The two of you endure two more Shakespearan tradgedies before Dave lowers the volume, fiddles around with the blanket, and starts to talk.

"So, I broke up with the boyfriend. Shit, I guess I should be calling him the ex boyfriend now. Dumped his ass. His ass is dumped so far away from mine."

His voice is weak, you can't see his eyes but it's sounds like Dave had been thinking about how to word this for the past three movies.

You don't say anything, settling in your age old position as the emotional bucket in your various groups of friends.

"It was over this big thing, and it wasn't his fault. All my relationships end in this stupid 'it's not you, it's me' sort of schtick, shit, even you-" he stops, then ignores that hiccup and continues, "-like it's this sort of motherfucking bad karma. How you end your first relationship is how you'll end every other fucking thing you have. He brought over the shittiest Thai food and even fucking McDonald's and placed the ring right on top of the noodles. The diamond's gonna smell like shitty Asian food for a few decades and it's this over the top but ironic shit that somehow manages to make me laugh and." He stops, brings his knees up into his chest and buries his face into them.

"And my whole life loomed ahead of me, but I couldn't see him in there."

"Yeah, I get that." You firmly fix the blanket around him, swaddling him like he's a baby, and then sit back against the sofa with your body facing the television but your eyes trained on Dave.

"You do?"

"Yeah. It doesn't sound like your fault." Sometimes your whole life loomed ahead of you, and you could almost see Dave standing in the kitchen making pancakes for you and a baby girl sitting on a high chair. She cheers as you give him a big kiss on the cheek.

"I miss him." Dave's voice is quiet, and now the flood gate's have broken and he's talking and rambling the way he did with Mr. Canton. "It's like I stabbed away part of myself, again, because I'm this irresponsible manchild who can't face up to the future. And the worst part of this is is that I don't even think I miss him as a person. I think I just miss him as a boyfriend.

It's just been this routine thing of Dave Strider being in a committed relationship, hey let's make this good, let's make this shit last, oops Dave Strider fucked it up again. Fine, let's wait for a little while and watch the desperate Strider parade around looking for another pair of arms to fall into like a fucking nerd. That's just it I'm so fucking desperate for something because I'm a loser who needs a relationship to calm myself down."

His face is still buried into the blanket, and he stops speaking. You don't reply, and the room is suddenly quiet again, laced with the whispers of the pulsing television.

Finally, after you're sure that he's finished crying into the patterned blue blanket, you scooch closer to him and throw an arm around his shoulders.

"We all know you're a loser, Dave, you don't have to hide it. I still love you anyway. We all do."

He lifts his head up and the two of you are so close you could feel the heat left from his tears and see through his shades and kiss him. You don't. But your eyes meet and his darts to your lips and bites his own, and it kills your heart. It makes you lurch inside, it numbs your senses and threatens to take the control away from your arms, your mouth, your mind.

"Thanks, John," his voice is raspy.

"Anytime."

"Do you want to ditch the movie marathon and play a mindlessly violent first person shooter game?"

"After we watch Mean Girls."

"Deal."


	6. Chapter 6

Your name is Dave Strider and you have officially dumped your ex-boyfriend for several months now. Hollywood, as per usual, exploded with tabloids a week ago when they found out about the status of your current nonlationship. You are the king of being secretive and keeping shit away from deadline frenzied writers trying to come up with some new fake sensationalized shit. This time, though, you think your ex was simply trying to find the right time to use the breakup to drum up more attention to his new movie. It makes you feel better that Chuck is moving on with his life and career and you don't begrudge him anything.

Although his new movie is shit and that's the motherfucking truth.

John has elected himself to stay over at your place for a while, since his house had a plumbing problem last month, working on his own projects while you laze around churning out more shitty SBAHJ comics and playing around with the stock market and shittier jpeg artifacts. You're slumping in front of your computer with one hand propping up your head as you scroll through the latest stock info. Lately Skaianet has grown even larger and its affiliates have started to take off and you wonder if you should buy into it. Maybe. You glance at John, who was hard at work on his own laptop, and then scroll through the stocks again. Not that you don't have complete trust in you friends, but you figure that you'll wait until a more optimal time, when the numbers recede a bit, before buying into them. It will be completely hilarious if you buy John and Jade an extravagant gift using the profit made from selling their own stocks. Shit, you should even include a receipt of every transaction, too, make it completely ironic.

You save the page before closing it, glancing at the time.

"John, it's 12:00, medio a dia, that means middle of the day."

The vice president of the Executive Board of Skaianet and CEO of several of its affiliates mumbles an assent, still glued to his computer.

"12:00 usually means lunchtime."

The aforesaid powerful and wealthy member of the financial world scratches his balls before mumbling another assent.

"It's your turn to cook today."

John groaned, then saved his work and powered off his computer."We don't have anything left in the refrigerator! I can't magic food out of nowhere and I don't feel like going out to get some either." He glared at you. "You were supposed to do the grocery shopping yesterday, remember?"

You do this thing where you sort of tilt your head and eyes up to the ceiling and refuse to look at your best friend's reproachful face. "Hey man, I basically fortify myself in this place around this time of the year unless I have to go out for work shit. You should do the groceries since you don't have the noisy reporters chasing you around."

"You were fine with getting groceries a week ago, and the week before that." Aw, he's not buying your bullshit. You decide that you should probably face your own bullshit this time and you look him in the eye. Ouch.

You sigh and stand up. "Fine, I'll go get them right now. Geez, I have to do everything in this household." You stretch and make your way to the door, with John following behind you.

"You're just going to go?"

"Hey I just volunteered myself as tribute for our food supply this week, what're you complaining about?"

John raises an eyebrow. "I meant, you're just going to go outside in your boxers?"

Remaining pokerfaced, you give a slight shrug. "Why not?"

"Blugh! Wait here." He runs off, leaving you standing in front of the door. You hear drawers being open and John's own special brand of footsteps cavorting over the place. He comes back holding a pair of slacks, a button down shirt, and a tie.

"I'm going out to buy fish and doritos, not to meet the president of the United States," you complain.

"You're going out to buy fish, pork, beef, turnips, cabbage, lettuce, carrots, onions, flour, and maybe doritos. Oh, and we're out of salt and olive oil so get those too." He lets you pull on the slacks and button up the shirt before fixing the tie around your neck.

John is a head taller than you and thicker than a barrel of beer. You watch in strange fascination at his pursed lips and concentrated eyes as he bends down and skillfully weaves the piece of cloth in and out with huge but adept fingers until he's satisfied with the knot. He has a mole on his forehead.

"You have a mole on your forehead," you blurt out. You don't know why, but the physical proximity is making you feel a bit warm, so you step back a bit.

"I know that?" He brushes some imaginary lint off your shoulders.

"By the way, I put your wallet inside the right pocket of the slacks. You didn't even bother to take it when you started to leave. Dave, how do you even live without me?" His question strikes a nerve inside of you that makes you feel gooey and lightheaded. You know it's a joke, but John looks so at home standing right in front of you, berating you for being such a fish head, that you think your face turns a bit red.

"I actually don't know the answer to that." It comes out of you so suddenly that John hasn't registered or realize the implications of your words. Before he starts getting wise, you turn and hurry out the door, leaving him standing in your home like a permanent fixture. One that you could get used to.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: this is the second to last prewritten chapter, so updates are going to be a lot slower after the next chapter. usually you'd find the story updated during long weekends or after customary american finals testing dates. i write to feel rejuvenated after the crappy standardized tests whose creation is dominated by corporate wishes of greedy companies who are just after my cash. btw the next chapter will be posted this weekend.

* * *

Your name is John Egbert, and you have been living in bliss for the past few weeks. You wave goodbye to the back view of Dave strutting outside in the shirt, slacks, and tie that you chose for him and wondered if this is what being married feels like. It feels pretty awesome actually!

A yawn escapes your mouth, accompanied by a ding from your PDA. It's a pretty old model, but your dad gave it to you when he returned from being kidnapped by the Midnight Crew because he was "SO VERY VERY PROUD OF YOUR BEHAVIOR" during the time of said kidnapping. Since you're a hopeless daddy's boy, you keep the PDA up to date and in perfect working order and have done so for more than ten years.

You check the message.

carcinoGeneticist (CG) began trolling ectoBiologist (EB)

CG: HEY THERE, VICE HEAD CORPORATE NINCOMPOOP.

EB: i wasn't aware we're in the 90's! who even says nincompoop anymore?

CG: OH GREAT, I RETURN FROM THE LAND OF LABS AND UTTER DESPAIR COUPLED WITH GIMUNGOUS AMOUNTS OF CAFFEINE AND OVERTIME NOT TO MENTION THE DEGREE OF FREE TIME I HAD IN THE PAST MONTH AND A HALF IS LITERALLY ZERO KELVIN AND ALL YOU HAVE TO SAY IS THAT YOU THINK I'M AN OUTDATED PIECE OF TRASH.

CG: WHO EXACTLY IS THE OUTDATED PIECE OF TRASH, OH TIME LORD JOHN WHO USES A PDA FROM THE FUCKING 2000S. I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE A GNARLY OLD GUY LIKE YOU IS TRYING TO BEAT ME, A FRESH AND HIP YOUNG MAN BRIMMING WITH STAR SPANGLED POTENTIAL, IN A MODERN-OFF.

EB: lol

EB: anyway, hi karkat!

CG: HI JOHN.

CG: SERIOUSLY THAT'S ALL YOU NEEDED TO SAY TO A GUY WHO'S BEEN COOPED UP IN A SMELLY LAB FOR THE LONGEST TIME IMAGINABLE. IF I CAME OUT AND MANAGED TO FIND MYSELF IN THE FUTURE CENTURY I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED BECAUSE OF THE INTERMINABLY LONG TIME I SPENT IN THAT DINGY ROOM.

EB: pfft, you're complaining over a month and a half of work? your game is weak, karkat.

EB: i'll have you know that in nic cage's new movie, which came out during the time you were busy, he spent two years cooped up in his room trying to develop a new scientific cure for his sister's terminal illness, contracted from evil aliens coming to take over earth!

EB: i kind of got bored of him again near the end so i went and sorted out dave's laundry instead.

EB: anyway, we should totally stream that movie soon!

CG: RIGHT, COMPARING ME, A REAL LIFE HERO SAVING HUMANITY IN THE NAME OF SCIENCE TO A FUCKING NIC CAGE IS VERY APT.

CG: I AM GROSSED OUT AND SOMEWHAT FASCINATED BY YOUR VACILLATING ATTRACTIONS TO NIC CAGE'S MOVIES, AND I HEARTILY DISAPPROVE OF YOUR ATTEMPT TO ENGAGE ME IN YOUR MOVIETHONS.

CG: AND DON'T THINK I FORGOT ABOUT THAT SUSPICIOUS COMMENT DANGLING UP THERE!

EB: suspicious comment? which comment?

CG: OH I'LL JUST PRETEND YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT SORTING DAVE STRIDER'S LAUNDRY.

EB: you know, it could be a different dave.

EB: i could be currently dating a dave smith or something.

CG: WOW SUCH JOKE MUCH FUNNY

EB: that sounds like a familiar thing but i kind of forgot what it is...

EB: oh yeah it's one of those meme things. man they were pretty popular when i was a teenager.

EB: that's years ago karkat. who's the hip one now?

EB: B)

CG: HAHAHAHAHA I'M LAUGHING MY ARSE OFF.

CG: WHO THE FUCK CARES JOHN, I'M ASKING YOU ABOUT WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SORTING DAVE STRIDER'S LAUNDRY? DID YOU MANAGE TO FINALLY SNAG THE BISCUIT? ARE THE FRUITS OF YOUR LABOR AND HIS SURPRISING FLOWERING OF FRUITS SQUELCHED TOGETHER IN A THOROUGHLY JUICY MANNER DESERVING OF THE PRIZE OF THE BEST BOTANICAL PORN?

CG: ARE YOU LIVING TOGETHER?

EB: woah woah woah calm down tiger!

EB: maybe you should have some milk to calm yourself down before i tell you the whole story of how my house almost blew up so i have to stay over at dave's temporarily.

CG: WHAT.

EB: it's pretty funny actually, even though the bill isn't very funny and my piano is ruined.

CG: OKAY, SHUT UP.

CG: I DON'T ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT THE WHOLE HOUSE STUFF RIGHT NOW, TELL ME LATER WHEN YOU'RE TREATING ME TO COFFEE.

CG: ARE YOU TELLING ME THAT YOU'RE LIVING WITH DAVE STRIDER WITH YOUR PENT UP FEELINGS? YOU'RE IN CONSTANT CONTACT WITH THE MAN OF YOUR DREAMS RIGHT NOW BUT NOTHING HAS HAPPENED YET?

EB: yeah, basically.

CG: EVEN THOUGH IT'S BEEN MONTHS SINCE HIS BREAKUP?

EB: hey, i don't want to be a rebound, alright?

EB: besides, i've basically given up on dave and stuff. i totally respect his decision to not want a completely serious relationship, which was why he broke up with his ex, but i also respect my own wishes for a serious relationship.

EB: we're just incompatible that way, there's nothing i can do about it!

CG: SO YOU DON'T LIKE HIM ANYMORE.

EB: i never said that! but i'll move on eventually so what does that matter? i have to deal with the company and various other organizations, i can't be depressed just because i have my heart broken by my best friend! again!

CG: ALRIGHT, CALM DOWN, TIGER. TAKE TEN DEEP BREATHS. HAVE SOME MILK.

EB: blugh. thanks.

CG: NO PROBLEM.

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK YOU NEED?

EB: :?

CG: STOP THAT.

EB: :? :? :? :?

CG: UGH.

CG: ANYWAY, IGNORING THE FACT THAT AN ALMOST THIRTY YEAR OLD MAN IS USING DISGUSTING EMOTICONS LIKE YOU ARE, I THINK YOU NEED A GUYS' NIGHT OUT.

CG: ICE CREAM, MOVIES, ALCOHOL, THE WORKS.

EB: that's a great idea, karkat! except we have literally no place to have it?

EB: my place is wrecked, and yours doesn't have a functioning freezer.

CG: YOU'RE THE RICH GUY, DON'T YOU HAVE AN EXTRA PENTHOUSE SUITE OR SOMETHING?

EB: i do, but like, i only have another place in new york city and paris?

CG: HAHAHA, THE STRUGGLES.

CG: ANYWAY I HAVE EXCELLENT NEWS TO TELL YOU.

CG: I JUST ORDERED A NEW REFRIGERATOR.

CG: THAT'S RIGHT, BASTARD, I GOT A NEW AND WELL FUNCTIONING FRIDGE.

EB: oh, so the money for your paid internship went through? congratulations!

CG: I ACCEPT YOUR ADULATIONS.

CG: ANYWAY MY PLACE IS FREE WHENEVER YOU FEEL LIKE YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE AMOUNT OF DAVE STRIDER IN YOUR CURRENT LIVING SITUATION.

EB: things are going okay, i guess. i don't think i'm up to that level yet?

EB: i mean, i just sent dave out to get groceries and even did this whole domestic routine of tying his scarf for him.

CG: ...

EB: what? there's nothing wrong with it!

CG: RIGHT, YOU'RE PRETENDING TO PLAY HOUSE WITH STRIDER, HOW PRECIOUS.

CG: SERIOUSLY THOUGH, IF YOU DON'T THINK HE'S GOING TO RECIPROCATE THIS IS JUST GOING TO HURT WORSE.

EB: it's not like i can flush feelings out of my system just like that.

EB: blugh. anyway, let's just not talk about dave, okay?

EB: we haven't been able to concentrate on you and your research stuff! and i also haven't told you the really frustrating and sort of hilarious story about how my house almost blew up!

CG: SOUNDS FAIR. I'M GOING OUT TONIGHT FOR A CONGRATULATORY DRINK AT THE BAR WITH CAPTOR AND THE REST OF THE IDIOTS FROM THE LAB.

CG: YOU OWE ME A CONGRATULATORY CUP OF COFFEE OR SOMETHING.

EB: hehehe, tell you what, i'll be over at your house tomorrow morning with aspirin, and make some breakfast for you and your friends!

EB: i'll even tell you in person about what happened with my bathroom's plumbing.

EB: they'll be staying over at your place again, right?

CG: AS ALWAYS, MY POOR HOME WILL BE THE RECIPIENT OF UNWANTED ATTENTION LAVISHED ON IT TONIGHT. AND, APPARENTLY, AN UNPLEASANT STORY TOMORROW.

CG: I WANT CONGEE SERVED WITH SCRAMBLED EGGS AND BACON AND TOFU ON THE SIDE.

EB: right, right, i'll call dave and make him buy all that right now.

CG: ...

CG: YOU KNOW, DESPITE EVERYTHING, HE'S STILL KIND OF YOUR BITCH ISN'T HE?

"You're like a housewife," you say as Dave dumps the groceries down on the kitchen table. He took longer than usual because you made him go back to the store when he was halfway back home, to buy stuff for Karkat's breakfast tomorrow. Dave had complained, but he ultimately didn't question you and came back with really heavy grocery bags. You'd have to make him ice his arms later, and maybe rub some tiger balm on them, because Dave tries to be tough and carries all these heavy bags on his own even though he's such a light weight. You could kiss him for it.

He's sorting the food while complaining how you're such a fucking iron matron, what are you, running a kitchen of steel right now? You don't chuckle, but you laugh and gently place your hands on his shoulder to sit him down in the table.

"Take a sip of apple juice, I'll take care of the rest." You lightly squeeze his biceps to get his blood flowing again, and pushed a bottle of juice in front of him.

"Yes, mom," he answers sardonically, but he doesn't move to take the drink but instead he crosses his arms and tries to subtly massage his biceps. You could really kiss him right now. Right now, on that petulant and sweet mouth, catching his ruby lips between yours and taste him for the first time in your life.

"Anyway, John," he continues after his display of cool-itude. "I've been thinking."

"That's kind of your job." You take half of the meat and set them in a bowl near the cutting board, and put the other half in the fridge.

"Shut up John, this concerns us, alright? It's important, but I have to ask you questions first."

"That's fine, ask away Dave!" The bread isn't very fresh, you'd have to delegate the important task of buying fresh bread to yourself instead of Dave in the future.

"Do you like it here?" His voice is soft and deadpanned, and when you turn to look at Dave you see his expressionless mask. That never works on you, though. You've become too good at reading people over the years to not be able to tell what Dave meant. He's nervous.

"I like it here, yeah. You run a neat household, Dave."

"My household is indubitably the neatest in this galaxy." He pauses, seeming as if to gain courage to speak further. "When's your place going to be fixed up?"

He's nervous and he knows that you're catching on to him. There's no way anyone wouldn't be able to.

"Probably by the next two weeks the workers should be done with it. Why, you want me to stay?" You don't wait for him to answer you,, "I'll do that if you want me to."

Why are you doing this, John? You're such a fucking dumbass, you want to scream at yourself. You want to stop time for a while and look at your lifestyle and look at your choices, both of them are going to end in your heartbreak. Well, a bigger heartbreak anyway.

"I didn't even ask."

"What are friends for, if not to read your mind like a creature from the netherworlds?" You make yourself grin, putting the bread in the pantry and taking a fresh fish out of the bag. It's wiggling in your hands as you examine it, and when you've approved of its vivacity you stick it back into the plastic bag and plop it on the counter, near the meat cleaver. The only things left to be sorted were the ones for Karkat's breakfast tomorrow, and you don't look at them, you just put the tofu in the fridge and shove the rest of the bags in an empty drawer.

Dave always looks on your activities in the kitchen with something in his eyes, something that you don't want to define because you're afraid. He looks on your activities in his kitchen with content and something like love, and he's nervous and at this moment you think he's asking you to live with him. And you can tell all of this because you've known Dave for years and years, even though you've only fallen back in love with him recently, and it scares you. You're an airy and breezy guy, but you want the solidness of a dependable and committed partner, someone who's not afraid to say outright that they love you and someone who's strong and and who can take changes and Dave-

Dave isn't that person, and he only thinks that he loves you, and that's not enough. But you see him in the corner of your eyes, watching you as you make dinner and move with such familiarity in the kitchen, and you think that this unspoken thing between the two of you is so precious and frail that you don't want to break it off. Not yet.

"I'll stay," you say. "My place isn't going to be ready for living in right after it's being fixed anyway, I'll have to get new furnitures and replace everything. And you live like a manchild who can't cook, not very well- don't speak Dave, you know it's true."

"Man, living with you is exactly like living with a mindreading creature from the netherworlds," he laughs a bit, settled and comfortable, no longer nervous.

"What can I say, you used to keep your face so guarded a man had to learn the trade of monsters," you finish cleaning the fish, and then you take the meat cleaver and hack it into pieces for soup. A piece of raw fish hits Dave in the face and he splutters and jumps up, causing the piece to slide to his shades which were tucked into his collar.

"Oh my god, John, I forbid you to cook fish ever again! Fish are hereby abandoned in this household, damnit! Oh my god it's inside my shirt now, John!" He flailed around, "John! Get the fish out of my shirt!"

You're laughing so much that you can't keep your fingers and feet steady as you try to unbutton Dave's shirt to get the fish out. It's not working so you switch to sticking your hand underneath his shirt instead, but as soon as Dave feels your sticky, fish stained hand touching his skin, he jumps and shrieks all over again and topples both his chair and you.

"Ow," you complain; the chair had slammed into your head as you fell over, and you can almost feel a bump forming. "Ugh," you moan again when you remember that the chair had been mahogany. Hopefully it didn't dent.

"Hey, whenever you're ready you can let me up, you know." The voice comes from under you, and when you look you see Dave with the most disgruntled expression on his face since you didn't let him buy Doritos last week.

He's red and breathing hard from embarrassment and the excitement earlier, and his hair is helplessly messed up. You notice his dark red eyes and the bags underneath, and the smattering of freckles that seemed to disappear under his blush as well as the beginnings of a five o clock shadow on his face. Dave looks so hopelessly helpless and out of control that your mind begins to wander...and promptly reined back in.

Bad John!

You let him up immediately, bumping your head into the upturned chair again.

Dave gets up awkwardly and keeps on looking at you for some reason. You don't know what to say, any thoughts of cooking also gone as the two of you continue to watch the other.

Then the fish slides out from under Dave's shirt and plops onto the ground.

* * *

More A/N:

john's dad was kidnapped by the midnight crew accidentally and then released miraculously unharmed due to diamond droog's prostration before dadbert's elegant, businessman appearance. dadbert became a mini celebrity instantly and wrote a book on how to iron your ties and shirt properly. he made enough to get a decent dental plan for john, but too bad john's teeth were already set in their ways by the time the money came through. he sometimes terrorizes john's workers for their attires whenever john forgets to take a homemade lunch to work and dadbert delivers one instead. the skaianet workers are the best dressed in the world, and diamond droogs looks on with admiration and a tiny bit of envy as he sighs at the state of the dress of the midnight crew. the skaianet employees are debating on whether dedicate a fund for their vice boss's lunches whenever he forgets to make them or take them to work. jade finds out about this conspiracy and joins in, but one thing led to another and all that happened was that skaianet bought the squiddles and started producing cartoons, with john's lunch money forgotten and dadbert reigns over the dresscode uninterrupted


	8. Chapter 8

AN: last prewritten chapter. thank you for all the enthusiastic and kind reviews!

* * *

You've just woken up and can't really remember your name because you had two cups of wine last night and you're a lightweight, but you do remember something from last night. John made fish steak and french onion soup with a serving of greens for dinner, and he made you buy rice so that meant that soon he's about to get his Chinese on and make whatever he makes whenever he felt like doing some traditional family cooking. You realized then that you really like having him here with you. It's not even a friend roommate thing, it's a thing where you, Dave Strider, understand and accept that you are head over heels for him, John Egbert.

It's a pretty great place to be when you let go of all that self doubt and fear of commitment; you allowed this handsome dude to continue living in your house after he dropped this super gross piece of fish down your shirt, obviously you're seriously in love. No take backsies. John Egbert made you take the affection pill and you're feeling it work in your heart. Your alarm is five minutes away from blaring and you're already hearing John shuffle around in your home, the sound is so comfortable that it only makes you reaffirm your decision once again.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you're about to woo the hell out of your best friend*.

(*note: the title of best friend is distributed among three persons and to mention one would necessitate the mentioning of the other two for fear of retribution via pranks, frogs, or passive aggressive warfare involving unnecessarily ugly statues of wizards)

The door to your room creaks open and a person steps carefully through the myriad of wires strewn throughout the floor. Your eyes watch him lazily and thankfully, because he has a cup of water in one hand and a pill in the other.

"Hey there buddy," he says softly, careful not to worsen the headache that's brewing in you. "I made some breakfast, it's waiting in the kitchen. Take an aspirin and some water first."

"Good John, best wife," you mumble, reaching for the things.

"Well, if you drink anymore this wife will have to file for divorce. On account of the drinking." He hands you the water and the pill, and you swallow both of them thirstily.

"You can't leave me, what about the kid? What about our little Casey?" You put the cup of water to the side and grab his hand to look up at him with a faked heartbroken expression. "Casey needs two parental figures in her life, honey. She can't just survive on Strider swag alone, she needs a healthy dose of Egbertian lameness."

"I will take care of Casey," John says solemnly, placing his free hand over yours. "She will have the best of both worlds."

"Fuck you man, I'm taking her," you say lightly, still looking at John. He's dressed already, you notice.

"I'm sorry Dave, but it's best for Casey that she leaves with me." His solemn face breaks, and he starts giggling.

"I hope you're happy with this, you evil man."

"Very." He pulls away. "Dave, I'm leaving right now, don't forget that food's in the kitchen."

"Shit man. Baby I'll change, just don't leave me to die alone in the world," you beseech in with your eyes, you think you upped the level by having some tears creep in. "Honey bunch, I'm sorry for being a lazy ass no good jerk with a beer belly yelling at the tv screen about football all the time. I promise, I won't yell at football anymore."

"Too late, former love of my life. I must leave now with a suitcase and a sweet little darling precious daughter in tow." He fakes wiping a tear.

The alarm rings.

You finally crack and laugh. "I can't believe we just did that."

"I can totally believe it because we went through even dumber routines before." He turns the alarm off. "Anyway I wasn't lying when I said that I had to leave. Karkat went out last night with some friends so I'm going over to his place to play the responsible guy who makes sure that they have painkillers and some healthy breakfast."

The room feels colder, even with the sunlight slowly coming in and with you safely in your bed. Karkat. How could you have forgotten Karkat.

"Isn't he underage? The kid can't drink yet, don't make him feel like you'll always be there to pick up his drunk ass when he shouldn't be drunk in the first place." You are weirdly harsh, and you even startle yourself with your tone.

John is even more surprised. "Uh...okay? I mean, that's totally hypocritical considering the amount of times that I had to tidy up your own ass whenever I visited you in college, but okay? Besides, Karkat and I are buddies, I have to be there for him, dude." He grins again, "Don't get jealous so easily!"

He's leaving you now. You see his back turned to you as he walks out the door, and he's talking about something but you're not listening because you're too busy thinking. You think that John's back looks very attractive, and that you wish you realized it sooner so you could've had more time to ogle at it. You think that John's voice is a lot deeper than when you two were 16 and the summer he visited and picked up your drunk puking ass for the first time. You think that you're a dumb person for forgetting Karkat Vantas, and the image of John's arm wrapped around that little punk's waist comes floating to the front of your mind and you want to punch something.

You're thinking all of that and forcing yourself to leave the self doubt behind because you're doing this. You're doing this man, you're making this happen. You've already jumped into the freezing pool stark naked and you're staying in this pool until it's warm. Dave Strider is not going to chicken out and climb out of that pool because that pool is going to be one of the best thing in Dave Strider's life and he really needs to work on temperature control but since he's already in the fucking pool he's in there to stay. Stay in the pool.

You reach for your phone and go through your contacts.

turntechGodhead (TG) began pestering tentacleTherapist (TT)

TG: hey yo i just gotta tell you something

TG: its hellaciously important sis you gotta listen to me

TG: rose come on i need you right now

TG: i need you because youre the recycling bin where i throw my feelings in

TG: they are shit compost but they create beautiful things

TG: my feelings are that powerful

TG: rose

TG: rooose

TG: rose im pregnant

TG: i think its a girl

TG: im going to name her casey

TT: Just because some people wake up at unearthly times in the morning doesn't mean that normal people do the same.

TT: Take a gander at who's the minority and who's the majority here.

TT: Take a gander and then carefully push the answer up where the sun refuses to shine.

TG: oh hey good youre here i was afraid that ill have to call in the heavy cavalry and get your phone ringing

TG: is my ringtone on your phone still set to snoop dog's song

TT: Yes, it is.

TT: But please, Dave, just ignore my desire to gain a healthy amount of sleep and continue talking about inane matters.

TG: anyway im just here to say that ive decided to take a plunge into some pool

TG: this really cold pool even though i dont have much confidence in my swimming skills and i'm sort of terrified right now

TG: ngl

TG: but thing is im not going to leave this pool so easily

TG: because i realize that i love this pool

TT: ...

TG: im in love with this pool

TT: Do I need to tell John that you're high?

You spend the rest of the morning eating breakfast and convincing Rose that no, you're not high and no, don't call John and no, please don't come over you're not decent.

You spend the beginning of the afternoon brainstorming.

Okay Dave. You've decided to woo John. What are you going to do? Usually you'll just start with small stuff like being very convenient, asking about their day, sending them lunch, taking them out, etc etc. Except the problem with your nonverbal form of flirting is that John won't notice a fucking thing since the two of you are best bros and this kind of behavior isn't unheard of. You remember giving even Rose and Jade backrubs, that's how much more intimate things will have to get before John thinks things are weird.

Verbal flirtations?

You have a sudden flashback to John's college graduation, when he was nervous as hell and looking to you, the dropout, for support.

_"Do I look good?" He asks, biting his lower lip._

_"You look smashing. You look awesome. Notice how I'm sticking to simple phrases and not metaphors because I want you to know that I'm being serious here. You look like a really handsome dude."_

_John didn't blush, but he did calm down and manage a grin. You weren't lying when you said that he looked dashing, _

Current Dave frowns. Looks like unsuccessful attempts at flirting might not even be the biggest problem, you can march up to John right now and confess and he'd either take it as a joke or brush it off because this impromptu game of gay chicken that you two have been playing has grown pretty big lately. Play flirting wasn't exactly common between the two of you like it was between you and the girls, but still, offhanded comments and reassurances made compliments that outsiders would take to mean romantic interest just meant either irony or a sweet moment of true bro-ness. To be fair, it wasn't as if you've had that much face to face contact with each other until he moved to L.A. recently, but somehow the boundary lines between you two still eroded as fast as an iron cast into the ocean. You think you even remember seeing him squeeze a pimple on his nose and handing him tissue paper to wipe off the pus. Point is, the two of you are already too damn close and you're not really sure how to up the stakes.

This period of remembrance also made The Incidence easier to recall. As a rule, you don't dwell on the mistakes that past Dave made, but this one is carrying over to current Dave's predicament.

In addition to John not noticing your wooing attempts, there's also the chance that he'd flat out disregard them even if he did because you were a dumb baby when you were fifteen. Granted, so many years passed that he might not consider it a factor in deciding whether or not kissing you on the lips would be a good idea now, but you're a nervous person and this extra tidbit isn't making you any less calm.

You remember walking home last night to the home you're sharing with John, in the clothes that John picked and probably washed and laundered as well, carrying the groceries that John told you to buy, and humming the tune to the show that you watched with John the night before.

You remember being the messed up teenager and being so lonely all the time you just wanted to have someone nearby to comfort you. You remember growing up into an adult who sought too many comforts and finally became someone who's scared to settle down and focus on just one person. The air was warm and its breeze caressed you as you lugged the bags home and somehow you feel as it the wind was blowing away your past and all that's left is the present and the future and they all contained John.

You're going to make this known to John somehow that you are in totally hots for him. You're going to hold his hand. You are going to hold the fuck out of his hand. Romantically.

* * *

The front door opens when you just get out of the shower. You hear John's voice talking, he's probably on his phone. You take a towel and wrap it around your waist, shuffling to the kitchen for a bottle of orange juice. John's still talking, and soon you spill orange juice over your newly scrubbed skin because_ someone is talking back_.

You quickly walk to the living room to see John standing awkwardly around, mostly because you're in nothing but a towel and he's brought someone over. The someone turns out to be Karkat Vantas.

"Uh. Hi Mr. Strider." Karkat stares at you as he fumbles out the words. He looks horrified and lost, and he shuffles closer to John.

"Should we wait until you get dressed to tell you?" John's also staring at you, but there's something in his look that's different from Karkat's, and you revel in it. You feel the towel slip a bit and you see John swallow uncomfortably, so you lean against the wall, but otherwise you don't fix the slip.

"Nah, you two can take the sight of my tits. Spill bro, why did you bring in your attempt at cradlerobbing?"

"Oh, it's just." It slips a bit more. "Uh, it's just that Karkat's having some plumbing troubles so I figured, um, that he can stay with us while his bathroom is being worked on."

"That's fine, he's sleeping on the couch though."

Before the annoying brat manages to speak, John perks up. "Oh, you don't have to deal with the sleeping arrangements. He can stay with me in my room."

Oh hell no. You see the brat turning to John and tugging at his sleeve, yelling in his ear. You don't hear what Karkat Vantas is saying and you frankly don't care.

Oh hell fucking no.


End file.
